Cold Hearted Snake
by Kitties Like Stripes
Summary: Murron's only escape from her rough life is the wizarding world and all things in it. But when you're a Mudblood, even the magical side can be a mean place... Especially when you're crushing on Draco Malfoy. DracoXOC. Rated T for language and situations.


**D****isclaimer: **I do not nor will I ever own Harry Potter. Any excerpts or traditional Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own Murron MacDonald and her official design. Nicole Shipman belongs to _RimaHinamori_.

xXx

"This is what you get for stealing my Bruce, you brat!"

Murron could only stare wide-eyed as the small Ford backed up, speed increasing

with every millisecond.

"Murron, get out of the way! Move!" she heard her father cry repeatedly, but by the time she got her body to respond, it was too late.

There was a shrill scream, a loud snap, and the sound of screeching brakes before Murron blacked out.

That was all she remembered from that day. Not the excitement in her father's eyes when she told him about her Hogwarts letter, not the wondrous trip they had begun to plan to Diagon Alley, but her mother purposely running over her leg in their driveway.

Her father had contacted the police, of course. They had asked her lots of questions once she was better, most of them concerning the treatment she had received from her mother. At this point, since her mother wasn't there to give a clout to the ear, she told them everything. How her mother would beat her until her whole body was black and blue, how she would scream at her when she gave her father a hug. Murron always hated her mother, but now, it was a strong, passionate despising.

But today, she was going to Diagon Alley with her father, and she couldn't let the thoughts cloud such a wonderful day. She would spend her whole day at a magical place, just her and her father, and she was excited.

Her father's husky voice broke into her thoughts: "Murron, dear, do you have the supply list?"

Murron could barely hear him over the bustle of parents getting supplies for their children. "A-aye, sorry Da. I was just…thinking…"

Bruce laughed, ruffling her silky, silver hair. "Try not to worry, love. It's all better now." His expression turned serious. "How is your leg?"

"Oh, fine." It was true, it wasn't painful, and in fact it felt normal. But her bone was severed, and she'd have a slight limp in her step for the rest of her life.

"Good. Well, why don't you read out the supplies to me once more?"

Murron nodded, unrolling the paper and reading the neat handwriting to her father once more:

"Year One:

UNIFORM:  
First year students will require:  
Three sets of plain works robes (black)  
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

OTHER EQUIPMENT  
1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS"

Her father blinked, his green eyes (who's were identical to hers) smiling for him. His mouth soon followed, "You're worth every Galleon and Knut."

She giggled, "I don't know about that…but I do know that I've been _dying _to go to Ollivander's for my wand!"

"Ah, that's a big point in a wizard and witch's life," Bruce replied matter-of-factly. "Why don't I go pick up your robes, and _you _go get your wand?"

"Really?"

"Of course. Go on, love, I'll meet you outside of Flourish and Blott's."

Murron hugged her father tightly before scurrying down the street, looking eagerly from side to side for the well-known wand shop. Right as her excitement was dying down and she thought she'd need her father, she looked up to see the Ollivander's sign. She gasped happily, straightening herself up before, very sophisticatedly, opening the door to the wand shop.

She looked around for the shop owner, but no one was to be found. "Hello? Anyone here?" she called. As if on cue, a little old man stepped out from the room in the back.

"Ah, well hello there," he said kindly, walking up to the counter. "Are you a first year student as well?"

Murron nodded, straightening her posture. "Yes, sir."

The elderly man laughed, and he looked her over a moment before scanning the shelves of wands behind him. "Now, let's see here…" Slowly and carefully, he slid out a small box that was buried beneath thousands of others. He removed the lid and set the box within it, revealing a light-colored wand, which she guessed was about 11".

"Holly wood, eleven inches," he stated, carefully removing the wand from its box and setting it front of her. She looked up at him and he gave her a nod, signaling it was alright to pick it up. Murron carefully took the wand in her hands, gripping it in one as her father had showed her.

"Well go on, give it a wave."

"O-okay," Murron replied. She brought the wand up slightly and then brought it down in a fluid motion. The door that led to the back room cracked, half of it falling to the floor.

The old man blinked, and graciously took the wand as she handed it back to him. "No, no, that's not the right one…"

The little old man began searching once more. He would take a box, look at it, and then deny it. Murron was worried that none of these wands would fit her.

Right as she was about to give up hope, the elder froze. He slowly removed a box, this one solid black. He opened it and pulled out the wand. It was about an inch longer than the other one, and the wood was much darker. The handle was very well crafted, with a snake design around it. He turned, setting the wand before her. "Hawthorn, twelve inches."

She nodded and took it into her hand, grasping it again like she had been told. The handle glowed beneath her hand, and then faded just as quickly.

"I-is that bad?" Murron stuttered, her hand beginning to shake.

"You've found your wand," the old man replied calmly, giving her a smile.

Murron felt herself smile, too. Finally, she could be considered a witch.

Within the next few minutes, her wand was bought and Murron was headed to the book store to meet her father. She waited about five minutes, watching people pass by, before Bruce showed up, carrying with him her cauldron, robes, brass scale, telescope, and set glass. "So, love, did you get your wand?"

Murron nodded. "Hawthorn, twelve inches!"

Her father's eyes slightly widened, and his shoulders seem to tense. "Hawthorn, aye?"

She nodded. "Yes. Why, is there something wrong with that?"

Bruce shook his head, "No, not at all. So, shall we get your books?"

Murron, a bit concerned with the way her father's mood suddenly changed, simply nodded and followed him into Flourish and Blott's.

xXx

"Why don't you go and look around, Murron, while I get your books?" her father suggested. She wasn't paying much attention, though; she was staring in bewilderment of all the books.

"Sure, Da…" she replied once she came to, watching her dad take off for all the books the first years needed. She, however, decide to go up the stairs and look around. When she got there, though, the site she saw was awful.

Two girls, who seemed like top-notch snobs, were kicking and hitting a girl on the ground. She looked terrified, her eyes widened as another foot to her gut made her gag.

"Mud-blood!" One of them spat, kicking her harder than before. The girl on the ground just whimpered and winced.

Murron couldn't help but flinch. Her mother had been a muggle…and that made her a Mud-blood. Her father had always told her muggle-born wizards were treated horribly, but she never imagined it going as far as physical abuse.

She thought for a moment. If that were her, she'd definitely want someone to help her. Taking a deep breath, she stormed over, grabbing the kicking snob by the collar of her robe and throwing her aside. "Leave her alone!"

The girl stared her down. Murron's eyes widened. This girl was not very pretty.

"And what concern of it is yours?" she spat, getting in Murron's face.

Murron shifted, debating whether or not she should say anything. _No, _she thought, _don't make up an excuse. Be proud of your blood. _"I'm muggle-born, wench!"

The girl drew back, "You too? How many Mud-bloods are they letting in?"

The second girl came forward. "Calm, Millicent. Of course more of them are going to be let in," her eyes narrowed, "Dumbledore's too soft."

Millicent hissed, "You're right, Daphne." The two looked down upon the cowering floor girl, then shouldered roughly past Murron and left with a dramatic exit.

Murron turned to the girl on the floor, kneeling down o get level with her. "Are you alright?"

The girl nodded, "Yes…" She looked up at Murron, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. "Thank you."

Murron held out her hand, giving a warm smile, "No problem. There's nothing wrong with being muggle-born."

The girl took and Murron helped her up. She looked down, "That's the thing. I'm not muggle-born…"

Murron raised an eyebrow. "Then why…"

"My sister…she likes to torment me. She told them I was muggle-born, just because she knew they would come at me like that." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"That's terrible!"

The girl nodded. "Yes, well, that's Jessica for you…" She smiled, "I'm Nicole Shipman, by the way."

"Murron MacDonald," Murron replied, shaking Nicole's hand. "Are you a Hogwarts first year?"

Nicole nodded. "Yes. Are you?"

"Yup!"

As the two talked excitedly about the upcoming year, Murron took a good look at Nicole. She had shoulder-length onyx hair, and her bangs were almost a gold they were so bright, which she thought was a bit peculiar. She was paler than most, but Murron was that way, too.

"Murron! Time to leave!"

Having heard her name, she sighed. "Sorry, Nicole, I must go."

"No big deal. Find me on the train?"

"Will do!" Murron said her farewells, and then scurried down the steps to meet her father.

Once at the bottom, Murron tripped on the last step, bumping into a blonde-headed boy. "O-oh, my apologies."

The boy turned sharply. "Watch where you're going!"

"Why don't _you _watch your tone?" Murron spat back.

"Draco? What is going on?" A man walked over, looking like an older version of the blonde, and Murron guessed it was his father. His hair was longer, though; it draped passed his shoulders. _Awful long hair for a male, _she thought.

"Murron?"

_Oh no!_

She felt her father's strong hand be placed on her shoulder, only his muscles were tense. "Lucius Malfoy… My, what a surprise." Was that resent in her father's tone?

"Ah, Bruce. Is this your daughter?" Lucius asked. Something about his cool, sly tone made Murron shudder.

"Yes. This is Murron," Bruce's eyes drifted to the boy standing beside Lucius. "And this must be your son, Draco."

_Draco… _Boy, the name suited him. His eyes were gray and he was awfully pale. His expression showed nothing anger, hatred for something or someone.

"Yes. Well, we'd love to stay and…_catch up_, but we have shopping to do."

"Aye, as do we. Good day, Lucius." And with that, her father led her out of the bookstore. "I got all your books," he told her once they left.

"Da, who was that?" Murron asked, not wanting to let the subject go so easily.

Bruce sighed. "An old friend, dear. Now, have you thought about your animal?"

"Animal?" She had completely forgotten about getting an owl, cat, or toad. "Oh, yes…an owl."

"Well, then, let's go find you one."

There were so many owls at the shop, but Murron went with a Little Owl that she named Arthur. He was so cute; she couldn't help but pick him.

Sadly, her exciting day at Diagon Alley had come to an end. Now she was at home, packing her things, laying out her robes for the following day. She had remembered how excited she had been to go to Hogwarts; now, she was awfully sad to say goodbye to her Edinburgh home.

She looked over at her dresser where frames and frames of photos sat. The one up front was a family portrait made when she was a baby. Her father was smiling down at her…her mother was glaring.

She gently put the photo face-down, not wanting to look at her face. She was still utterly disgusted with her mother.

"Well, goodnight bedroom… I'll see you when I return."

xXx

Murron didn't think saying goodbye to her father would be so hard. She had clung to him, slightly crying, before she finally said farewell and forced herself to go through the barrier.

She was now on the train, sitting by herself and looking out the window at the dizzying scenery. There was a knock on the car door before a familiar face walked in.

Murron looked up. "Nicole!"

Nicole smiled. "Hello, Murron." She sat beside her friend, "How's the ride going so far?"

"It was rather lonely, until now," she replied, giving a friendly smiled. Nicole half-returned it, looking down at her lap. She had a piece of paper in her hands.

"What's that?" Murron asked. Nicole sighed.

"Jessica has really caused trouble now… Read this." Nicole handed her the note. Murron unfolded it and began an attempt to read the untidy scrawl.

Mud-blood,

You better hope that you don't get put in our House. We'll make sure your year is miserable if you do. If you do, your year will be twice as worse compared to if you don't. Either way, prepare for a terrible time! Oh, and tell your little friend that if she doesn't stay out of our way, we'll make sure the _both _of you get jinxed. Maybe even worse.

Welcome to Hogwarts,

Millicent

"I really wish she hadn't done that…" Nicole murmured.

"What do they have against muggle-borns?" Murron spat, handing Nicole the note.

"You know wizard families…purebloods think they're better than others."

"I'm muggle-born…" she hissed through clenched teeth, balling her hands into fists. "And I don't like being shunned!"

"I know…" Nicole replied, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I don't think there's anything wrong with being muggle-born. You're just as much of a wizard or witch as they are."

Murron smiled, "Thank you, Nicole… I'm glad someone doesn't look down on muggle-borns."

A knock on the car door made the two of them look up. "Have you two seen a toad? Neville has lost his…" A girl with wavy brown hair spoke.

"Hermione, why couldn't you have left Harry and me out of this?" a boy with red hair whined. Next to him, she recognized Harry Potter, but decided not to say anything.

Nicole shook her head. "No, sorry." She turned her attention to the red-head. "If you want, you're more than welcome to come sit in here with us."

The three nodded and came in, sitting on the opposite isle from the two girls. Harry turned and looked at Nicole. "Hello."

Nicole's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. "H-hi Harry…"

"I'm Murron MacDonald," Murron told them, trying to break the awkward silence. "First year."

"Us too," the red-head blurted out. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasely."

"Hermione Granger," the girl followed.

"Harry Potter," Harry said last, though nothing really needed to be said.

"Don't think you needed to say anything, mate," Ron mumbled, getting a playfully punch to the arm by Harry.

"I'm N-Nicole Shipman…" Nicole told them, shifting in her seat a bit; her cheeks were still a light pink.

"Nicole…I like that name. It's nice," Harry told her with a smile. Nicole's blush grew brighter.

"Well…thank you…" she replied, giving a little giggle.

Another knock came on the car door. This time, a girl with shoulder-length auburn hair stood in the frame. She had one blue eye, one green, and Murron guessed she was about five foot.

"Hi. I'm Ela-Mare. Mind if I sit in here? Everywhere else is full."

Ron blinked, shaking his head. "Not at all- I mean, yes, you can sit here, not that you can't…sit…here…" he let his voice trail off, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

Ela-Mare giggled and walked in, and Harry got up so she could sit by Ron, who cursed his friend's name under his breath. Harry then proceeded to sit next Nicole, who accidently squeaked.

The rest of the train ride went rather calmly. Hermione, Ela-Mare, Nicole and Murron all got well acquainted. Ron and Harry would talk to them some, but mainly talked to each other about how confused they were going to be and about Quidditch.

At this topic, Ela-Mare got excited. "I'm trying out for the team!" she told them. "I want to play keeper."

"I am, too!" Murron said. "I'd prefer to play beater."

They all continued to talk about Quidditch, when Ron brought up another topic.

"Do you know Draco Malfoy? Jeez, what a load of dung he is!"

"Oh, I know!" Ela-Mare shook her head. "He's rude, obnoxious, and a total snob. Just because of his dad's position…"

"I met him at Flourish and Blott's," Murron told them. "I accidentally bumped into him on the stairs. He was a real jerk about it. And I guess my dad knows his, because when Lucius showed up, my Da got really tense…"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Ron mumbled as he shoved a chocolate frog in his mouth. "That guy's a true creep."

"And his son is just downright mean," Nicole put in.

They could've talked about Draco and his father for ages, but as they felt the train come to a stop, they all excitedly scurried out of the car and out into the crisp night air.

A giant man with a scraggily beard came walking forward, holding a lamp. "First years! First years, follow me!"

Harry led the group over to him. "Hi, Hagrid."

Hagrid smiled down at them. "Well hello again, Harry. I'm glad to see you've made friends." The rest of them just stared in awe of the huge man.

"Well, let's go! First years, to the boats!"

_This is it! I'm finally at Hogwarts!_


End file.
